


Angels We Have Heard on Pie

by fandoms_girl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandoms_girl/pseuds/fandoms_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and Cas retreat to a mountain cottage for a couple of days off during the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels We Have Heard on Pie

            The sound of glass shattering and something large crashing to the ground caused Dean Winchester to jump and roll his eyes. He walked into the living room of the mountain cottage where he and Sam had holed themselves up for the holidays, effectively cutting themselves off from the rest of the world and all of its crazy, expecting to find some sort of monster destroying their house. Instead, he found his brother collapsed on the couch, unable to breathe from laughing as Castiel sat on the floor and brushed glass from broken ornaments off his trench coat.

            “What the hell?” Dean asked, eyes darting from one to the other.

            “Sam told me that, traditionally, angels sit atop the Christmas tree, so I…did,” Cas explained.

            “Never listen to Sam. Ever,” Dean said, carefully helping Cas to his feet and dusting pine needles and glitter from the angel’s shoulders.

            Dean glared at his brother, who was hiccupping and wiping tears from his eyes.

            “Sorry, Dean. Not sorry,” Sam gasped.

            Dean shot him one last scathing look before putting his arm around Cas and leading the angel back into the kitchen.

            “Come on, Cas. You can help me finish making these pies,” Dean said, smiling at Cas.

            “What would you like me do to?” Cas rubbed his hands and grinned back.

            The two worked in comfortable silence, occasionally “accidentally” brushing up against each other or reaching for the same thing at the same instant. Once all the pies were in the oven, Cas turned back to Dean.

            “So, what should we do while we wait?” the angel asked.

            Dean cast a long look in the direction of the living room, where he could hear Sam typing furiously on his computer. Mischief dancing in his eyes, he spun and pushed Cas up against the refrigerator and kissed him, digging his fingers into the angel’s hair. Cas’ eyes fluttered closed, and he returned the kiss, forcefully. Many long moments later, they pulled apart. Dean put his lips to Cas’ forehead, and the angel leaned into the hunter.

            “We really should tell Sam about this, Dean,” Cas spoke quietly into Dean’s chest. Dean made a vague noise of agreement and held Cas tighter.

            “Soon. I promise,” Dean whispered back, nuzzling Cas’ neck. He broke the embrace, though he let Cas cling to his hand as he checked on the pies.

***

            “So if I move my knight…no, bishop, no, wait,” Sam hissed in exasperation. Cas remained completely emotionless.

            “There is literally no way that I can move any piece I have left that won’t end in checkmate. You have got to tell me how you did that,” Sam said, tipping his king and shaking his head.

            “Well as a general rule, when you’re considering war strategies…” Cas began.

            “Hey, Napoleon, how about we save the explanation and play something else?” Dean asked, tapping the Apples to Apples box.

            “There are only three of us, Dean,” Sam said.

            “What’s your point? Just put down two red cards apiece for each green card. Problem solved,” Dean explained, “Come on.”

            Sam and Cas shrugged and joined him.

            Cas played the game literally, picking the politically correct answer every time it was his turn. Sam and Dean tried to see how raunchy they could be, confusing Cas on many, many turns.

            “I don’t understand. How can socks be luscious?” Cas asked Dean as the hunter added that particular green card to his stack.

            “They’re not; that’s the point, Cas,” Sam laughed, “It’s funny.”

            “I see,” Cas said, brow furrowed.

            The next turn, with Dean judging, Cas played “handcuffs” on “sensual,” which caused Dean to choke on his beer when he realized who had won. Sam thumped him on the back and gave Dean a concerned look.

            “See, Dean, angels can have a sense of humor. Good job, Cas,” Sam smiled at the angel.

            “Thank you, Sam. Are you all right, Dean?” concern was evident in Cas’ voice.

            “Fine,” Dean choked, “I’m gonna go get another one of these and a slice of pie. Either of you want anything?”

            “No, I’m good,” Sam responded. Cas shook his head.

            Shrugging, Dean walked into the kitchen, not noticing how Cas turned to Sam with a slightly pained look on his face.

            “What’s up, Cas?” Sam asked the angel.

            “Sam, at this time of year, people usually give gifts to their loved ones?” Cas asked, looking for a confirmation.

            “Yeah. But what…?” Sam started.

            “What do you think I should give Dean?” Cas asked him, eyes searching Sam’s face.

            “Dean? Uh, beer? Pie? Guns? Knives?” Sam suggested.

            “But he already has a lot of those kind of things,” Cas said, distraught.

            “What do you want to give him?” Sam asked, running a finger across his lips.

            “Something…special. I was thinking maybe, this,” Cas reached in his pocket and withdrew something. “But I don’t know. It seems so…small.”

            Sam’s breath caught when he saw what Cas held.

            “It’s perfect,” he told the angel.

            “Are you sure?” Cas asked.

            “Yes, absolutely,” Sam said, finality ringing in his tone.

            Cas smiled and returned the object to his pocket. Dean came back in a moment later, two beer bottles held in one hand as he balanced what looked like a plate full of half a pie on the other.

            “So, did I miss anything good?” he asked, sitting back down.

            “Nope. I think it’s my turn to judge,” Sam said, drawing a green card.

***

            Sam’s dreamless sleep was undisturbed by Dean’s waking up in a cold sweat with a silent scream on his lips. These were the luxuries of separate rooms. Cas, however, noticed.

            “Dean. Dean. Everything is all right. I will keep you safe. Come on, Dean,” Cas spoke softly and quickly to the hunter, holding Dean in his arms and swaying slightly. Dean buried his face in Cas’ chest and inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “I’m…I’m ok. I swear,” Dean murmured. Cas made a tsk-ing sound with his tongue and zapped himself to the kitchen. A few moments later, he returned.

            “Here,” he said, handing Dean a cup.

            “What is this?” Dean said, smelling it.

            “It’s tea. It will calm your nerves,” Cas explained.

            “Why does it smell like apple pie?” Dean asked.

            “Drink it,” Cas commanded.

            Dean complied, and Cas listened as his breathing and heart rate slowed back to normal.

            “I love you, Cas,” Dean slurred, setting the cup down and blinking as he settled himself back into bed.

            “I love you too, Dean. I’ll see you again in a few hours,” Cas said, kissing Dean’s forehead. “Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

***

            “Wake up! There’s food to eat and crappy television to watch!” Sam’s yelling echoed down the hall to Dean’s room.

            “What about presents?” Dean grumbled, mussing up his hair and yawning.

            “Not till later,” Sam said, grinning evilly.

            Dean gave him a long look, “Fine. Where’s the coffee?”

            Sam gave him a look. “You’re going to have to see this.”

            Dean followed his brother into the kitchen and froze. Every surface was covered in some form of holiday food, and it all smelled heavenly.

            “I don’t know what to eat,” Dean looked around in amazement, “Cas, you did this?”

            “Sam helped me. He gave me that,” Cas nodded towards a Betty Crocker Christmas cookbook that was sitting under a mixing bowl. “So I made everything in it.”

            Dean blinked several times. He looked close to tears. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he smiled at Cas and said, “Let’s eat.”

            All three piled plates high with food and relocated to the living room.

            “All right,” Dean said, “Presents now. Sammy, since you’re youngest, you can have yours first.”

            Dean slid a thin package over to Sam, and Cas handed the younger Winchester a box. Sam hastily tore the wrapping from both.

            “Dean, this is awesome! Was the blade really made from a meteor?” Sam asked Dean, flipping the new knife over in his fingers.

            “Figured you’d get a kick out of that,” Dean smiled.

            “And Cas…wow. This isn’t even on the market yet,” Sam said, tapping the screen of the tablet computer Cas had given him.

            “I went to the company and got a look at the design and schematics,” Cas explained, “After that, it was fairly easy to replicate.”

            Sam and Dean exchanged an impressed look.

            “Thank you, Cas. And it’s your turn,” Sam said, sliding a package towards the angel. Dean pulled a strangely shaped object out from under his seat and handed it to the angel.

            Cas carefully unwrapped Sam’s gift first. Inside was a new phone, with a very long, detailed operating manual.

            “Thank you, Sam. I’m sure this will be very useful,” Cas said, turning his attention to Dean’s package.

            Cas carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a large stuffed bee and a letter. Cas smiled at the bee and squeezed it slightly before opening the letter. It was handwritten in Dean’s flowing calligraphy. Cas’ eyes danced over the letter, reading page after page faster than any human could. Once he had finished, he looked up at Dean, tears shining in his eyes.

            “Thank you, Dean,” the angel croaked, swallowing. Dean smiled weakly back, lower lip quivering.

            “Dean, it’s your turn,” Sam said, handing his brother a medium sized box. Cas slowly put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a very small box and slid it to Dean. Dean tore the wrappings off and smirked. Sam had given him a large book full of credit cards and gift cards.

            “And,” Sam said, “They’re all loaded with an obscene amount of money. I got Garth to help me rig it.”

            “Thanks Sammy. I love it!” Dean said, focusing his attention on Cas’ box.

            Dean undid the wrapping very slowly and opened the box with equal solemnity. He gasped when he saw what was inside. Hand shaking, Dean withdrew the amulet Sam had given him so many years ago.

            “I know…I know this holds both good and bad memories,” Cas said, “But I was hoping that now it could be a symbol of renewed friendship…and love.”

            Dean was unable to speak; instead, he threw himself at Cas and tackled the angel to the ground in a kiss, amulet still clutched in one hand.

            After several moments, Sam cleared his throat. Dean and Cas separated and turned towards the younger hunter.

            “Anything you two want to tell me?” Sam asked, smiling broadly.

            Dean made a contemplative face and snagged Cas’ hand as they settled back onto the couch. “No, I think we’re good,” he said, snuggling against Cas, who wrapped his free arm around Dean.

            Sam just continued to smile and shook his head, excusing himself to the kitchen to get more food.

            “Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean stared into the angel’s eyes. “I love you.”

            “I love you too, Dean,” Cas said, flicking a finger at the television.

            The hunter and the angel held each other close, completely content, as they watched a log burn in a fireplace many miles away. 


End file.
